


His Pro-boy

by thefilthiestpiglet



Series: 4F Rogers (comics + fics) [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chastity Device, M/M, Multi, background institutional dubcon, background sex, light nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-02 15:52:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5254193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefilthiestpiglet/pseuds/thefilthiestpiglet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky learns a bit more about his new pro-boy.  </p><p>Decided to start a separate one for this because it's Bucky-focused instead of including the rest of the Howlies.  I'll try to have a pic with each one.</p><p>Mostly not explicit.  99% feeeeelings, 1% sex mentions.</p><p>(This is set in 4F-verse, where non-serumed Steve volunteers to provide sexual relief to soldiers as the only way he can get into the army, and then is attached to the Howling Commandos.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Morning Watch

Bucky hadn’t liked mornings in a long time. Somewhere in his brain, he dimly remembered a time when he liked getting up early to help his mom make breakfast for the rest of the family. But then something happened and that stopped. Instead mornings became filled with people being far too cheerful when he wanted to be sullen. It didn’t get any better when he joined the army, and then after the HYDRA base it got worse. Much worse. When the camp is awake he knew how to be Sergeant Barnes, but when his eyes snap open at two or three in the morning from some dimly remembered dream, he was stuck with several hours of lying awake, just being Bucky. Or being whatever’s left now that Zola was done with him.

But then they picked up Rogers in London.

The kid had gumption and took his job seriously. Within a week he’d proposed a set of work shifts: early morning, lunchtime, and after dinner. (The rest of the time he’s always on call for a quick suck, but he’d only have time to do proper prep for the shifts.) And since Rogers’d have to wake up early for prep anyways, Bucky naturally decreed that he bunk with whoever took the last watch that night.

Then somehow Bucky ended up almost always taking last watch. He knew Dum-Dum hated waking up early (that’s how they met, always last in line for the showers), and so when Dugan brought up the rotation swap he agreed easily. Then Monty joked that the Sarge was playing favorites, and the Frenchman cried foul. And since Bucky preferred sitting awake with a purpose than lying awake and hating himself, he didn’t put up much of a fuss before trading with them, too.

Which meant he got Rogers four nights out of six.

Bucky found that he really enjoyed bunking with Rogers. Rogers was as meticulous about his cleanup as he was with his prep. Rogers didn’t snore like Dugan, or sleep-talk in different languages like Gabe. And in the relative privacy of the tent, Bucky got to see the small items that Rogers carried with him – a cross, a sketchbook, and his medicines neatly organized in a worn out tea tin. Rogers also took respectful interest in Bucky’s work – never prying about his reports or his letters home, but he made a point to learn the names of Bucky’s sisters. Bucky didn’t have a chance to reciprocate, because Rogers never wrote anyone. Far as he could tell, Rogers didn’t have anyone to write *to*.

Instead, Rogers drew. Sometimes he’d show it to Bucky before bed – the soaring buildings that the Mohawks were putting up in Manhattan, the ancient stones of London amidst the bombing, odd bits of the empty villages they’d come across. Bucky loved seeing the world through Rogers’ eyes. The kid could see so much beauty despite being unable to see red and green. 

Bucky liked Rogers and wished he’d known him back in Brooklyn. He’s a good kid.

Okay maybe Bucky liked Rogers more than a fair bit.

—-

The first time Bucky woke with his arm around Rogers in the middle of the night and a raging hard-on, he just about toppled the tent trying to get back to his side. 

“What’s the matter, Sarge?” Rogers was awake, just Bucky’s luck.

“Sorry… I shouldn’t have…”

Rogers shrugged and sat up. "Some of the others do it, too, you know. It’s fine as long as I know what you want – a cuddle or … “ Rogers looked pointedly at Bucky’s unabated hard-on. "It’s what I’m here for.”

“But… you’re off duty…” Bucky was pretty sure there was some policy about this. Using Rogers during preset hours was one thing, but…

“It’s never stopped the officers back in London. Besides,” Rogers looked a bit guilty, “I haven’t been doing my full shifts.”

“Huh?” That sounded patently false, given how Rogers got up earlier and worked during their breaks.

“Well, back at the station we had two four-hour shifts per day. And as far as I can calculate, my three shifts here plus the miscellaneous sucks add up to maybe 5 hours, tops.” Rogers pulled out his sketchbook and showed Bucky a specific page. "Here, Sarge. I’ve been trying to think of ways to make up for that.“

  


The page was neatly divided into two columns: "Primary function” and “Secondary function”. Under “Primary” were listed the shifts and a rough tracking of daily hours. Lower down in the column was a more scattered list of hypothetical additional activities. There was a rather fanciful drawing of a front carrying sling that would allow someone to fuck Rogers while walking. Bucky could tell that design would never work, so he turned to the other column. Under “Secondary” was a short list of tasks that Rogers had been picking up around the camp – doing laundry, helping the others with packing, etc. And a much longer and more intriguing list of hypothetical tasks. When Rogers caught him looking there, though, he snapped the book closed and turned put it away, returning instead with his jar of slick.

“So yeah. I can take care of that for you, Sarge. In fact, since it’s just you, there wouldn’t even be any cleanup afterwards….” Rogers started unscrewing the jar.

He’ll give Rogers this much – the boy wanted to be useful. Bucky put out a quieting hand. "It’s fine, Rogers. I will *not* need that in the middle of the night. No matter *what* my dick is saying.“ Sure, a part of Bucky relished the idea of being able to roll over, fuck Rogers until they both came, and then go back to sleep knowing that his cum is still in Rogers’ ass. But that wasn’t what Rogers was offering. And it’s not right for Bucky to take advantage.

"You deserve a good night’s sleep, Rogers. I can’t control what I do in my sleep, so if I’m bothering you, you should push me awake and I’ll leave you alone.”

Rogers quirked his head. "And if what you’re doing isn’t bothering me? Like tonight.“

Bucky allowed himself a small smile. If he knew for sure Rogers was okay with it… "I promise not to bring the tent down on us.”

——

Bucky found himself sleeping better and waking up refreshed instead of with that hollowness in his head. Rogers would wake up the same time he did, and first spend some time sketching. Then as Bucky sat at watch, Rogers’d head out to do his prep work, and return just as the others were waking to lay out the food and get a fire started. They didn’t talk much, but there’s a quiet camaraderie there that Bucky’d missed from his childhood. And in the gloom of those early mornings, Bucky found himself thinking of ways to make Rogers feel more helpful, instead of thinking about knives and needles and straps bolting him down to a lab table.

So yes, Bucky was starting to like mornings again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in case you’re wondering:
> 
> 1) yes Dum-Dum planned the whole shift swap thing. He’s a bit sad that he can’t get Rogers to suck him off in the middle of the night anymore, but it’s clear that Bucky needs him more
> 
> 2) Gabe mostly cuddles on his nights, although they also talk.
> 
> 3) Morita’s just a morning person and likes taking last watch. He’s got a lot of respect for Steve’s gumption – Morita knows a lot about volunteering where he’s not wanted. He also really enjoys the way Steve jumps at all the animals he sees. Darn city boys.
> 
> 4) Of course Bucky remembers what’s on the rest of the “Secondary” list. But first he’s gotta teach Steve how to shoot.


	2. Patching Up

This leave was long enough that the Commandos had time to actually relax and enjoy the town, instead of the usual week spent napping at odd hours of the day and sending letters home.

Bucky nursed his beer in the corner of the pub. He’d done a few dances with a charming gal, but then he heard a loud banging noise and twitched and she said “ow.” So that was enough dancing for the night. But the others were still going strong – Dugan was doing his best to cheat some locals out of some prized bottles of bourbon, Dernier was helping Gabe charm a group from Morocco, and Monty was dancing the night away. Morita was trading shop talk with another radio jockey, and Rogers was…

Rogers was missing. Bucky frowned. He recalled Rogers talking awkwardly to a sweet girl in the corner, and then he’d gotten up to get her a drink or something? Or maybe go for a piss? But that was more than fifteen minutes ago, and the girl is now back on the dance floor.

Bucky pushed open the back door to the alley, all the while hearing Becky in his head, chiding him for being a mother hen. "Bucky, I’m twelve, not TWO! Don’t you have anything better to do than worry?“ It took a moment for Bucky’s eyes to adjust to the dark alley, and by then he’d already nearly stepped on Rogers. Well, he stepped on a garbage can lid, which clattered aside to reveal Rogers sitting against a wall with a bloody nose and a swiftly darkening bruise on his cheek.

Rogers scrambled to get up. "Sarge! I’m fine. Just needed some fresh air.” Rogers winced involuntarily as he pushed to stand upright. "Shit.“ He then smiled ruefully at Bucky. "You’re not going to accept an ‘all clear’ from me, are you, Sarge?”

Bucky could only shake his head, the sight of Steve bleeding clogged up all his words somewhere between his pounding heart and his fuzzy brain.

“It’s all right, really. Some guys came by, wanted a piece of me. They’re not Army, and I was on leave, so I politely refused.” Rogers probed gingerly at his right side. "Well, not so politely after what they had to say.“

"Damage report?” Bucky could see the bloodied knuckles and the split lip and the various bruises, but his gut pulled at the feeling that it’s more than that. If those guys tried to do anything to his Steve…

Rogers shrugged. "Aside from what you see, I think I sprained my right wrist and there’s a chance of a cracked rib.“ At Bucky’s hiss he hurried to add, "Don’t worry, Sarge, I should be mostly healed by the end of leave, and I’ve worked through worse.” For the first time that evening, Steve seemed worried. "I promise, you won’t have to return me to the pro station.“ He bit his lip. "You won’t tell the others, will you? I swear it won’t affect my performance.”

“Don’t know how you intend to explain those bruises, but …” Bucky made a quick decision. The boys were enjoying themselves, and Rogers, despite his injuries, seem to be far more concerned about his wounded pride. Taking him to a proper nursing station would involve a lot of paperwork at one in the morning. "Let me walk you back to our flop house and you can get bandaged up.” Pro-boys needed escorts while walking around town, after all. And damned if Bucky was going to leave Steve alone after what just happened.

—-

  


“There’s only one thing I don’t get.” Bucky sat on his cot, watching Rogers expertly wrap his wrist and check his ribs. Rogers had clearly done this a lot back in Brooklyn, and small wonder – the kid’s got a sassy mouth and never knew how to back down. Bucky knew enough of Rogers at this point to know the kid would never run away from a fight, no matter how outmatched he was. So the only thing that nagged at him was … "Why didn’t you call for backup? We were just inside.“

Rogers looked up from his work of splinting his wrist. "Oh!” He looked a bit confused, himself. “I… didn’t think of it.” Rogers resumed his self-ministrations, and Bucky waited for him to finish his thought process. "For as long as I could remember, it’s been me and my ma.“ Rogers started hesitantly, but the next words came out with barely a waver – he was not one to shy away from pain. "And after winter of '38, it was just me.” Steve looked Bucky straight in the eyes then, daring him to say any words of pity. "I had friends and an job and all that, but after the first few months, I got used to taking care of myself.“ Steve shrugged. “So I guess that’s why.”

Bucky swallowed and resisted the selfish urge to take Steve in his arms and never let go. How could such a scrawny frame hold so much strength and determination? But this explained so much. Why Steve never talked about his family, why he never had any letters to send home. The way he insisted on being helpful but never remembered to ask for help himself. The way he always insisted that he was fine, no matter what.

"Well, I know you can take care of yourself, Rogers.” Bucky somehow found enough self control to lay a firm hand on a non-bruised part of Steve’s shoulder in a commanderly manner. “But you’re also one of us now, so try to remember that we’ve got your back.” He meant it, dammit, but the words hung in the air, ringing hollow. There’s no hiding the fact that Rogers was just a pro-boy assigned to a commando unit, and that if they do their job right, the war was going to end.

“Thanks, Sarge.” Rogers smiled and nodded sharply, then turned back to his work, shoulders stiff. “I’ll be fine.”

That was when Bucky started working on a post-war plan for Rogers. Steve wasn’t going back to Brooklyn alone, not if Bucky had anything to say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also known as “I was suddenly afflicted with stoic!loner!Steve feels”. Because what would Steve’s life have been like, if he didn’t even have Bucky when he had nothing?


	3. Personal Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky knew that Rogers’ personal interests were none of his business. After all, everyone had a few things they kept to themselves. He’s not this curious about the odd scar that ran down Dum-Dum’s back, but then again, he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to find Dum-Dum nestled in his arms, did he?

Bucky knew that Rogers’ personal interests were none of his business. After all, everyone had a few things they kept to themselves. Dernier would tell of all the women that he’d slept with, except for the one that left the thin trace of a wedding band on his finger. Morita had some great family farm stories from Fresno, but he never talked about where he went between his farm and the European front. And Bucky didn’t begrudge any of that – Bucky wasn’t about to share what happened in the HYDRA lab, either. But for some reason, it’s hard not to be curious when it came to Rogers. 

Rogers was the consummate professional. He didn’t play favorites, and took one Howler as enthusiastically as the next. He put in the time to learn what each of them liked, even drawing pictures of Morita’s girl and Monty’s guy for them. But Rogers never breathed a word about his own preferences. Bucky wasn’t talking about the physical – he knew what spot to hit to make Rogers come – there’s no faking that. But what sort of gal or fella did Rogers actually *like*? Sure, he might talk Bucky’s ear off about the Giants and the Dodgers, swap school stories with Gabe, and compare socialist rhetoric with Monty, but when they asked about dates or sweethearts or guy pals, Rogers would just laugh and say that he’d like to keep professional and personal separate, thankyouverymuch. Hell, Bucky didn’t even know if Rogers ever had a go with men before signing up to be a pro-boy. Sometimes Rogers would blush as he drew in his sketchbook, but he always slammed it closed whenever one of them got close, and Bucky was't one to pry.

It shouldn’t matter to Bucky, except that it did. He’s not this curious about the odd scar that ran down Dum-Dum’s back, but then again, he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to find Dum-Dum nestled in his arms, did he? Bucky always felt enormously selfish in those moments. Did Steve want that, or was Steve just playing along because that’s what Bucky wanted? Could Steve really say no when Bucky’s doing something in his sleep? Given how much pride Steve took in his job, *would* he say no? And on bad nights, when Bucky couldn’t help shifting a little closer to Steve, Steve would make a happy noise in his sleep – those were the times when Bucky kind of felt like it *was* his business. 

Then Bucky caught a glimpse of Rogers with someone off-duty.

They were delayed a few days in a church-turned-field-hospital in a small town while they waited for larger troop movements to pass them by. On the morning when they were about to finally head out, Bucky caught a glimpse of Rogers on his knees behind the stairs, unzipping the pants of the laundry boy. 

  


It was just glimpse as he was headed to the kitchen, and really, it was none of Bucky’s damn business. But the laundry boy was such a .. brute. He was a local, closer to Steve’s age, and hired to help around the hospital with lugging buckets of water and dirty bandages about the hospital. Bucky supposed that the boy had quite impressive muscles from all that work, maybe that’s what Steve liked. Bucky’s strength didn’t show the way that boy’s did – he never had much use for that before the war, and now – well, better a brute than a freakish lab experiment.

By the time Bucky finished collecting provisions from the kitchen, he had mostly decided that it really was none of his business. Rogers had a right to fuck whoever he liked when he’s off-duty. He was just a pro-boy assigned to Bucky’s unit, and Bucky’s responsibility of the day was to get his unit packed and on the road before there’s another delay. 

He found Rogers in the Howler’s shared room, doing the last of his packing. He stuffed something in his bag just as Bucky walked in, but Bucky was far more distracted by his bloody lip and a darkening bruise on Rogers’ wrist.

“What did that sick fuck do to you?” Off-duty sex was none of Bucky’s business, but hurting one of his unit was. Bucky turned to head back down the stairs, but Rogers shot him a look that made him stop. "Dammit Rogers, did you actually *want* this? To get beaten up while sucking cock? I don’t mind what you do during your personal time with someone, but…“ The Steve that Bucky knew wouldn’t take a punch passively on his knees. Maybe Bucky didn’t know Steve at all.

Rogers glared at him, chin jutting out. "It wasn’t like that, Sarge.”

“Then tell me what it’s like!” Bucky half-expected Rogers to yell back at him, but Rogers just swallowed and went back to packing. Right. Because Rogers knew better to give lip to a superior officer. Bucky sighed and sat down. He needed his head on straight, find something to focus on. The neat packs that the others left on their bunks – they were out securing transport and weapons. The one broken pane of the window, probably from gunfire. The silver tin that was rattling as Rogers jammed his medicines in with more energy than was called for. Wait….

“What happened to your regular medicine tin?” It was one of Steve’s few personal items, and he always took such care with it. "The blue one. With the fireworks on it.“

Rogers shot him a look of surprise, then looked down and mumbled, "I can’t find it.”

Bucky stood up and started rummaging through his own pack. "Maybe it got mixed up with my things by accident.“ He eyed the other Howlers’ packs. "When they get back I’ll get them to look, too.”

“Sarge…” Steve pulled at Bucky. "It’s fine. It’s just a box.“

"No it’s not.” Bucky didn’t care what made it special, just that it was. "That box is Important to you. The boys would understand.“ Bucky’s seen the way that Monty looked at the fleur-de-lis pin on his beret, the way Morita reached into his pocket every time he crossed a fence. He patted Rogers on the shoulder. "We’ll find it, don’t worry.” 

Rogers crumpled under Bucky’s hand, and for a panicked second Bucky thought he lost control of his strength again. Dammit, and he’d been so good lately. Even at night. "Steve, you all right?“ 

"You don’t need to go looking, Sarge.” Steve sighed. "It’s right here.“ He took out a crumpled lump of metal from his bag. Blue, with hints of white and red sparks.

"It’s a limited edition July Fourth commemorative tin.” Steve’s shoulders were slumped, for probably the first time since he joined the Howlers. It seemed like all the fight at left him for once. "Summer of ‘28 I got really sick right around my birthday, and I hated it. I hated my body. Hated my uselessness.“ 

  


Bucky remembered that as the summer Ruth was born. He’d carried the baby up to a rooftop to watch the fireworks, and somewhere in the same neighborhood, Steve was sick and miserable. "Ma gave me this and told me…we all make do with what we have. Some people took gunpowder and made bombs, or bullets. But those weren’t the only options.” Steve touched the tin and said softly, fondly. "Take everything you’ve got and make fireworks of it.“ 

"This morning I took it down for refills, and…” Steve shook his head. "Anyway, he got ahold of it, told me if I wanted it back, I had to suck his cock.“ Steve smiled humorlessly. "Guess we’ve been here long enough for him to figure out what I do.”

“I was gonna suck his ugly cock, too – figured that’d take me 5 minutes, tops. But then you walked by and… I remembered that I was better than that.” 

Steve straightened his shoulders and handed the crumpled tin to Bucky, the defensive gruffness easing back into his voice. "So there you have it, Sarge. It wasn’t for work and it wasn’t for pleasure. It was just for a bully.“ Steve cracked a small smile. "A bully who I promptly punched in the nuts, consequences be damned.”

Bucky carefully turned the tin in his hands. Tested his hand against the metal. It’d take some finesse, but… “Mind if I try fixing it?” 

“Be my guest, Sarge.” Steve shrugged. "I figure, maybe find a metalsmith in a bigger town, though the tools’d muss up the paint…“ Steve trailed off as he watched the metal shift under Bucky’s fingers. His eyes grew wide. "Sarge… you’re… but…”

Bucky let himself focus on the tin, so that he wouldn’t hear the bitterness in his own voice. "One of the side effects of being lab rat freak for HYDRA, Rogers. When they strapped me down and did things to me, they probably expected me to die like the others. Or maybe turn into a monster or a killing machine. But if I concentrate ... “ Bucky took a deep breath and kept a close rein on the buzzing in his head. This was delicate work, especially if he wanted straight, even edges. He had to be good.

"Your ma was right – take what you’re given and make it something else.” Bucky didn’t mention that he felt more like a bomb than the fireworks re-emerging under pressure from his hands. No. Focus. Red like Becky’s cheeks on a winter day. White like the challa dough set out to rise. Blue like Dad’s car that he loved more than his daughters.

No, blue like Steve’s eyes as Bucky handed the tin back. "Sarge…“ Steve looked like he wasn’t used to people doing things for him. And Bucky suddenly remembered that Steve had to do everything on his own since '38. And Rogers had too much pride to accept help for free. "I… I don’t know how to…” Suddenly he brightened. "I can add an extra work shift, just for…“

"No.” Bucky was startled at the ferocity of his own words. "That was for you, not for for the Army.“ They already made Bucky write down everything he experienced in that lab, they weren’t taking this, too. He suddenly noticed that his hands were clenched at his sides, so he focused on the way his nails were digging into his palms. Good thing he’d already handed the tin back. "This… this was personal, Steve. For the guy I would have liked to have met back in Brooklyn.”

Steve looked down at the tin again, then slowly looked back up, a small smile playing across his lips. "In that case… thank you, Bucky.“

Bucky smiled in return, his heart jumping a bit at being called Bucky and not Sarge. The kid caught on quick. "Anytime, Steve.” 

Bucky stood and surveyed the room and their messy bags. "Now, let’s finish packing before the rest of the boys get back, Rogers.“

"Yes, sir!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this got long. So I drew 2 pictures as recompense. :)
> 
> This is also known as Saga of Steve's Medicine Box.


	4. Bruised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve was covering up a bruise, and Bucky was determined to find out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after [Zola's Gift](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3359489).

Rogers was covering up a bruise. Bucky could tell by the grimace when he shouldered his pack for the day’s march this morning, and the careful way he was bouncing on Monty’s cock right now. And for the last three days, he’d insisted on not taking off his undershirt during his day shifts, citing the chill in the Alps. 

Bucky took a bite of his lunch and chewed. They hadn’t encountered any towns or HYDRA recently, which meant that the bruise had to be from one of the Howlers. Bucky frowned. He was certain none of his men would have intended to hurt Steve, but the fact that Steve felt like he had to hide it… Bucky pursed his lips and waited for Rogers to finish with Dernier and Jones before pulling him a little bit away into the forest. They walked until he couldn’t hear Dum-Dum’s teasing jibes before turning around to face Steve.

“Take your shirt off, Rogers.”

Steve flattened his lips and looked away. "Sarge…“ There’s something going on between Steve’s brows – this wasn’t the usual "I got into a fight and it’s none of your business” glare. There’s an added look of worry, which made it all the more Bucky’s business.

“You’re hurting, Steve, I want to see it.”

Reluctantly Steve lifted up his shirt to reveal a large stretch of bruising across his torso, along the bottom of his ribs. Bucky reached out and touched it gently. It was oddly shaped – this didn’t come from one of the boys grabbing Steve’s shoulders or hips too hard in the excitement of sex, and it didn’t look like a nasty fall… it looked as if something arm-thickness reached across and … Bucky went cold.

“I did this.”

  


Oh god. If he squeezed a little harder he would have broken Steve’s ribs. He should have insisted that Steve start bunking with someone else after what happened with that Zola potion, but he was too selfish and let Steve convince him that it would be okay, that it was the potion’s fault, that Bucky’d never…

“You’ve been having more nightmares recently.” Steve’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Bucky looked up to see Steve, shirt once again covering his torso. Steve was on one knee to be on Bucky’s level – and when did Bucky end up sitting on the forest floor? 

Bucky got up and patted his pants. "I’m going to reassign the tent pairs so that you don’t get me anymore.“ He should have done it a long time ago – it’s not fair that he gets to cuddle with Steve five nights out of six. The cuddling was what gave Steve that giant bruise. Bucky felt like he was going to be sick.

"Sarge…” Steve pulled at Bucky’s arm. "Don’t. They’re just nightmares.“

"JUST nightmares?” Bucky exploded. "I hurt you! I might hurt anyone I bunk with!“ 

"So what, you’ll just sleep outside? There’s snow on the ground! And what are you going to tell the others when they ask? Do you intend to take all the watches yourself?”

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it. "I’ll figure something out.“ Rogers was right – he shouldn’t make a big deal out of this. It’d hurt morale, and they were getting closer to Zola by the day.

That night, Bucky made a point of pitching his tent with Steve as usual, and even crawled into his bedroll as usual, though he carefully kept his hands tucked inside his own blankets. All he had to do now was not go to sleep until Morita taps him for his watch. Bucky used to be good at not sleeping. He just had to remember what it was like the first few days out of the HYDRA base, when he jumped at every sound. Steve and the Howlers had made him feel safe again, but that was an illusion. He was a fool to think he could get away from HYDRA, not when it turned him into a monster when he slept.

Bucky made it through most of the next day just fine, except for the bit where he accidentally stepped on a squirrel in the late afternoon. Everyone laughed. Well, better a squirrel than Steve.

Things were going well, until Steve tried to into Bucky’s bedroll that night.

"The fuck are you doing, Rogers?”

Steve pegged him with a look. "What do you think? You didn’t sleep a wink last night. I’m going to make sure you do tonight.“ Steve looked like he was about to pick a fight. "Will a suck or a fuck relax you? Or maybe just holding me like *usual*?” Of course there was no fooling Steve.

“Leave this alone, Rogers. I’m handling it.” It may have come out a harsher than he intended, but Bucky was tired and this was the last thing he wanted.

Steve sat back, and searched Bucky’s face. “Are you ordering me as my commanding officer, or are you asking me as Bucky?”

“Which one will make you do what I say?”

“If it’s the former, I’d point out that this isn’t any more of an endangerment to me than you ordering the others to charge a HYDRA base.” Steve was suddenly all calm reason. "We trust you to make the right decisions and we follow your orders. If you’re short on sleep and make the wrong call, you risk hurting your commandos in a life and death situation. That’s much worse than the risk I’m taking by helping you sleep at night. And as the pro-boy assigned to this unit, it’s my duty.“ Then he added cooly, "Sir.”

“And if I were asking you as Bucky?”

"You really wanna know, Sarge? You're not gonna like it." Steve's eyes were carefully hooded.

"Steve, just tell me."

With that, a ferocity bloomed in Steve’s eyes. “I’d tell you to stop running away from this.”

“I’m not…”

“Yes you are. Look.” Steve threw off his shirt and straddled Bucky, shoving the bruise in his face. "It’s not that bad. I’ve gotten worse. You know that.“ Bucky tentatively ran his hand along the purple stripe again. It’s true. He’d seen Steve patch himself up from scrapes a lot worse in the past few months. "So what makes it different this time, Bucky? Just because *you* feel guilty about it?”

  


“I hurt you. I can’t control myself when I’m asleep." Why didn’t Steve see what a danger he was? Not to mention the other moments, on missions, when his mind would go blank and by the time he came to, his hands would be covered with HYDRA blood.

"But you could have done a lot worse, and even asleep, you didn’t.” Steve sighed and eased back a bit. "You’re a good man, Bucky. Why can’t you trust yourself as much as we do?“ 

Bucky swallowed. "Because they did things to me that *I* don’t even know.” That was the core of it, the knot in his throat that kept him awake. He'd never said it out loud before. They changed him, there’s HYDRA blood running in him now, something scary and uncontrollable. “What if I…” 

Steve reached out and dabbed at the corners of Bucky’s eyes. They came away moist. "It’s not your fault, Bucky. You didn’t choose to get experimented on by Nazi scum.“ Then he leaned down and kissed Bucky on each cheek. "On the other hand, I *chose* to be here. I signed up for the Auxiliaries because getting fucked by 300 people a day seemed more helpful than collecting scrap metal. I volunteered for your unit. And now I’m here.”

Bucky sighed as he felt the tension leave him with the tears. He reached up and gently brushed his fingers against Steve’s cheek. "You’re a hard-headed punk, y'know that, right?“

Steve blushed. "And you’re a sleep-deprived jerk who has to be bullied into taking care of yourself.” Steve wormed further into Bucky’s bedroll, turning to face Bucky and tuck himself into Bucky’s chest. "C'mon, Sarge, you need to get some sleep.“ Bucky wrapped his arms gently around him, and closed his eyes. Maybe, for once, he could let go and trust the guy between his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's not wearing any pants in the first one because it was still during his lunch shift -- he'd just finished working through the majority of the Howlies. Don't worry -- he's wearing socks and shoes. :D


	5. Shipping Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's on the troop transport ship with Steve, but something's different about Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after [War's End](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4375793).

Bucky supposed he could have flown back to New York – Howard had offered a ride on the plane he’d just retrofitted with the engine salvaged from Red Skull’s HYDRA monster plane. But Bucky made a joke about how he already grounded that engine once, it probably wouldn’t fly with him onboard. Then Bucky looked up the troop transport ship that Prophylactic Auxiliary #206 was assigned to, and took that one. He was going home with Steve.

Steve’s shift was from 11am to 8pm, with an hour break during the slow hours of the afternoon. After that, he’d slip into Bucky’s private officer’s quarters, tense and tired from work, and they’d have dinner together – usually something Bucky kept warm from mess.

Steve was surprisingly chaste in the evenings – just a quick kiss before he started sketching in his notebook or reading some new book he got from one of his workmates. Wouldn’t even take his clothes off, not even for bed. Rather different from the eager pro-boy that served the Howlers during the war. But Bucky didn’t mind. He felt like he was getting to know the actual Steve, the one that he’d only get to see in snippets before.

“Why don’t you ever visit me during my shift?” Steve asked a few days in as he worked on some angry sketch in his book. There was something that’s been bothering him, but by now Bucky knew when to mind his own business. 

Bucky shrugged and looked up from an engine diagram that he was revising. "You’re not my pro-boy anymore. I figure, if you want it, you should get a say for once.“ He tried to gesture at all the feelings that he’d kept careful rein on the past few years. "And if I visit when you’re working… then you don’t really get a say, do you?" 

Bucky thought back to the first night of tent-sharing when he wanted to just kiss Steve and never stop. He didn’t, because he was worried that it would be Rogers the pro-boy who kissed back. "To be honest, I’ve waited for a long time to finally find out what *you* like.” Bucky shrugged. "I can wait a bit longer.“ After all, Steve’d agreed to go home with him, and that’s what counted.

Steve looked up from his drawing to quirk an eyebrow. "What do you mean, what *I* like? You *know* what I like.”

“Sure, I know a bit of what you like.” Bucky conceded. "I know the spots on your body that make you moan, but I don’t even know if you *like* getting fucked in the ass or nibbled on your shoulder. I know I shouldn’t hold your medicine tin as blackmail if I want a blowjob from you, but I don’t know if you actually enjoy sucking cock on the regular.“ 

"So why’d you even…” Steve set down his sketchbook and sat upright. “What if it turns out I don’t actually *like* guys? You turned down a proper position with the Army to get the both of us jobs with the SSR… just on the off chance that I *might* like this stuff?” Steve couldn’t quite keep out the incredulity in his voice. 

“I know you like me enough to take the job, even though that meant scrapping your art school plans and being stuck with your military service record. And that’s enough for me.” Bucky shrugged. "Besides, it’s not just sex. We can catch movies together. Maybe get an apartment together. I’d get to introduce you to my family and meet your friends. Maybe go on double dates with nice gals if you’re into that. If dinner and kisses are what you want, then that’s fine for me, too. Just wanted a chance to figure it out with you.“

Steve got up abruptly and climbed onto Bucky’s lap, pushing aside Bucky’s charts and papers. Bucky found Steve’s mouth hot on his, soft and wet and eager. Bucky let Steve lead the kiss, matching him tongue for tongue, breath for breath. Steve pushed himself against Bucky, full of promises of *more*.

"Y'know, when I was first in London, we needed escorts when we needed to leave the pro-station.” Steve said apropos of nothing when they finally paused. "To keep us from accidentally catching diseases, you see.“

"And now?” Bucky asked. Steve’s answer was to grind himself against Bucky’s leg, hard enough that Bucky felt it – there was something different there. 

“May I?” Bucky hooked his thumbs on Steve’s waistband. Steve blushed, but he’d already made his decision when he first started grinding, so he stood up, moved a few paces from Bucky, and slid his pants off in one go.

It was some sort of belt contraption. One strap of the belt wound tightly about his waist, and another strap ran between his legs. There was a prim lock in the front, and Steve’s cock was hidden behind a fine metal grate.

  


“They came up with this some time after I got assigned to the Howlers, so I didn’t get fitted with one until I checked back in at Paris.” Steve fingered the small lock in front. "It’s to keep us sanitary without having to waste manpower on the escorts. Only need one guy to unlock and hose down at the beginning of a shift and hose down and re-lock at the end of a shift.“ 

"Hose down?” Bucky grimaced at the idea of Steve, *his* Steve, waiting in line to be hosed down like some animal.

“Well, it’s a little more complicated than that. They stick a nozzle up there, to make sure I get a proper clean. And then there’s a plug that’s buckled in, to make it so you can’t just move the strap to the side.” Steve shrugged and gestured at the contraption as he did a sarcastic spin. "So there you have it. As long as I’m Uncle Sam’s pro-boy, it doesn’t actually matter what I want. Even when I’m off duty.“

"Oh Steve,” Bucky pulled Steve to him before Steve’s bitter helpless smile could turn defensive. "I’m so damn proud of you.“

That wasn’t the response that Steve’d expected, so Bucky elaborated. "I’d had to slip the records clerk a tenner to look up which ship you were with, and he whistled when he saw how low your number was. Told me they were well into 5 digits now.” Bucky could sense Steve relaxing into him. "You wanted to help, so *much*, that you were one of the first to sign up. While the rest of us were dallying about, you put your body on the line, and now THIS.“ He gently kissed Steve on the top of his head. ”*You* should be a Captain, not me.“

Steve made a little noise of embarrassment and kissed Bucky again, this time slow and lingering. Bucky closed his eyes and savored every brush of lips and gentle nibble of teeth. "Thank you, Bucky.” Steve’s whisper felt soft against his cheek.

“So, since you’re stuck with this for the trip,” Bucky sat up straight and looked as Captain-like as he could. "Its even *more* important that you tell me what you want – for right now, *and* on your shift. You may be Uncle Sam’s pro-boy, but you’re *my* Steve.“ 

Steve beamed and slid off Bucky’s lap to survey the room. "Do you have any talcum powder?” He scratched around the edges of his contraption. "The women have the same thing, it’s all off the factory line.“ Steve knocked on the cage enclosing his cock. "So they designed this to be a bit too bulky for the women and a bit tight for the men, ‘cause it’s easier than having two different types.” 

“Yeah, there’s some in my pack. Becky sent it with a sarcastic note about foot fungus.” Bucky suddenly had a vision of Becky working making plugs and genital cages in her factory. Probably didn’t take them more than a week to turn out enough for the entire Auxiliary corps. Good old American manufacturing.

They spent a bit of time applying it, especially in the places hard for Steve to reach. Then Steve sat down with a relieved smile – first one Bucky’d seen since they’d gotten on board – and proceeded to kick Bucky’s ass at chess. Steve went for a piss after that, and had a grimace when he returned. So Bucky distracted Steve from the plug by getting into a debate about how the Giants have really lost it since King Carl stopped pitching.

“So, tomorrow…” They were settled in for the night – Bucky had told Steve to do what’s comfortable, and somehow they ended up with their usual thing of Steve laid against him, facing the wall. But this time when Steve pulled Bucky’s arm around him, it felt different: it was Steve wanting it, wanting *Bucky*. "What do you want to do when I visit during your shift?“

"Mmm…” Steve waved his arm vaguely, half asleep. "Just bring my sketchbook tomorrow, there’s a few pages in there that I can show you.“ 

The casualness of the command caught Bucky by surprise, and he gave Steve an extra firm hug, possessive and feeling possessed at the same time. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it. My attempt at figuring out how Bucky and Steve's relationship would develop in the 4F-verse.
> 
> (And for the curious, Steve's carefully-guarded sketchbook features some nice doodles where he doms Bucky. :D)


	6. Steve's doodles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By popular request, here are some doodles from Steve's notebook, as referenced in chapter 5.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically they all start with Steve wanting to fuck all that tension off of his beloved Sarge's face. Tie him up and hold him down and fuck him until he's all loose-boned and sleepy.
> 
> Also on tumblr here: <http://thefilthiestpiglet.tumblr.com/post/155377137458/well-yet-another-person-wanted-to-see-steves>

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://thefilthiestpiglet.tumblr.com).


End file.
